Mi Ventana
Los Angeles Negros
My Window
My window is wet from the rain
It's the same as my eyes from crying,
When I look and you still haven't come,
The tick-tock of my clock hurts me more.
I don't know if my heart has betrayed me,
Nor do you appear in my dreams for a second,
When I look and you still haven't come,
In my window, there will be a carnation.
From afar, you are always the memory,
How long are the paths,
If distance is what hurts us more and more,
There will be a shorter path to choose.
Nothing remains in the corner you know,
The words are far behind,
Ahead is the love we swore,
That no one can ever separate.
